


Black spots

by deepdiver



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 15:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12986574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepdiver/pseuds/deepdiver
Summary: Once his dad told him that men keep to themselves and dean has always believed that. But sometimes, when he gets too weary or has too much whiskey he finds himself wishing he didn’t have to keep it all locked in. but its just for a second, and then the chick flick moments over, and really who would he even tell? He’s utterly alone and that’s just peachy keen.





	Black spots

Things are just fine, no matter what people think. Things are just great. And that’s the truth of it, but even then, sometimes when he would sit on the porch smoking some of his cigarettes and Sam would suddenly be looming over him, worried, and say something along the lines of ‘maybe we should talk’ which, yeah, they should but the chances of that happening are just nonexistent at this point, maybe he would feel a little empty. It just makes him remember. And getting a flood of memories back is competing to be his least favorite thing in the world, currently. So, he just shrugs and gets up out of his chair, most times. Sometimes he doesn’t really feel like moving but if that’s the case he just keeps silent until Sam disappears to wherever he came from. Which is good.   
///  
One time he’s watching the night, smoking what’s probably his fourth cigarette but he doesn’t even really remember, or maybe he doesn’t care, when Sam comes out again. This time he doesn’t loom, but keeps walking. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, and the last thing he could throw at him before tearing out of the driveway at 11pm was ‘I’m going away’. So that’s fine.   
///  
Now that’s he’s alone dean finds its way easier getting away with being a sad fuck around the house. Really, he just walks around and mopes. Not that there’s much else to do, him and Sam moved here to get away from everything and well, dean sure is a long time away from anything.   
///  
He loses his appetite sometime around a week after Sam leaves. He’s run out of food anyways and its just easier skipping a few meals than going into town to shop. Instead he tries to sleep, but when that fails he just walks eerily around the house. He does that most nights.  
///  
Sometimes he remembers why his back hurts so much, and its usually just about when he wakes up screaming at 4 am. He carries too much on it anyways.   
///  
One morning there’s a text from Sam. It just says he needs time, and is at Stanford again. He didn’t write it, but dean is sure he already enrolled in classes. So instead of answering his little brother, he takes off running.   
Its really the first time he’s done anything outside the house. Or cabin, that’s probably what you should call it. They bought it cheap a year back, Sam finally convincing dean to settle down for once and dean finally convincing Sam to come back home. So that’s what happened, kind of. Except it wasn’t enough for Sam, but at least he got the good sense to run away and leave dean to rot along with the wood in the cabins roof and honestly that’s probably some divine karma right there.   
///  
Dean discovers there’s a dirt path leading into the forest just ten minutes down the road from the cabin. His cabin. More importantly he also discovers that he’s out of shape. God, when was the last time he went out running? Probably when he was a kid, to get away from it all. But it just might be the same he’s doing now anyways.   
It’s nice getting some fresh air. He thinks he can feel the smoke from the latest pack of cigarettes he demolished getting replaced with the damp, cool air from nature itself. With his heart beating hard and his legs threatening to give out any second, its pretty hard to think about anything else. And dean really likes that.  
///

After about a week of running he doesn’t have to take breaks along the way. He also starts getting black spots in his vision, but that might be because its been probably about two weeks since he has eaten. Or maybe less? He doesn’t know. Time moves really slow these days.  
///  
Its probably a bad idea to not eat for so long but dean finds it very liberating. He has trouble sleeping because of the pain in his stomach, twisting into knots and making noises, which is nice. He forgets about his back for a while.   
///  
Once his dad told him that men keep to themselves and dean has always believed that. But sometimes, when he gets too weary or has too much whiskey he finds himself wishing he didn’t have to keep it all locked in. but its just for a second, and then the chick flick moments over, and really who would he even tell? He’s utterly alone and that’s just peachy keen.   
///  
About a month after Sam left he has to go into town after cigarettes. Its shitty, and dean hates it, but oh what he wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now. He ran out two days ago. He figures he’ll walk down there, its maybe a 30-minute walk? He’s getting too dizzy to drive.   
He walks into the nearest shitty gas station and gets his cigarettes and a new lighter. He avoids the cashiers eye, he knows how he looks. He has enormous dark bags under his eyes, his face lost enough weight that he probably looks like a junkie at first glance and his t-shirt and sweatpants look ratty and hang oddly on his now skinny-ish frame. its not like dean really cares anyways.   
While trying to flee the gas station and get the fuck outside so he can get his nicotine fix, he bumps in to something. Looking up, he dazedly thinks ‘Oh. Someone, not something.’ It’s a plain looking guy with blue eyes and a kind of wide face. He looks normal, and dean just doesn’t care. He says sorry, with a deer in the headlights look on his face, and dean just walks away.  
///  
That evening he sits on his porch again, after his run and smokes an entire pack of cigarettes. That’s probably a bad idea. But something happens and dean’s not really sure what to make of it. The cabin a few trees away from his is full of light and a car is in the driveway. He really thought it was abandoned. So, dean gets a new neighbor.   
///  
Dean wakes up at 4am after two hours of sleep, his back aching with memories, and gets restless. So, he goes running, its dark and cold out but he manages to dig an old light out from somewhere. He can’t really remember but he’s sure he has a light now and he didn’t buy it so. Great. Putting on clothes is becoming harder every day, it seems. Dean swears the fabric struggles against him and purposely exhausts him before he’s even out the door.   
///  
He’s dizzy today, but hell if that’ll stop his mission to run a bit faster each day. He runs far, and fast. Its feels kind of amazing, even if he can’t really feel his legs and he might as well not have brought a light since the spots in his vision get worse every time his legs hit the ground.   
///  
Two hours later dean is being escorted up the steps on his porch by the guy from the gas station. Because apparently that’s his new neighbor, who also goes running at the asscrack of dawn. And apparently if you don’t eat for a month, give or take a few days, you pass out eventually. And god just so decided it should happen right then and there, and funnily enough that deans new neighbor should run the same route and literally run into dean and promptly have a fucking heart attack.   
The guy seems nice enough, but dean can’t really make space in his head for someone else, and he doesn’t really understand what’s happening in his current state of what the hell, so he just sits down on the first and best chair he sees and looks around with tired eyes. The guy, apparently named Cas, doesn’t really talk either. Instead he stands awkwardly in the doorway and looks around at the fuckup that’s dean’s life, reflected by his mess and Dean can’t find it within himself to worry about that, and he can’t help feeling like he’s too tired for all of this.   
The rest of the day is a blur, but he foggily remembers wandering towards his bed and almost falling, but by the mercy of whoever, strong hands catch him and push him toward the bedroom. New neighbor guy isn’t as weak as he looks. The last thing dean hears is the sound of the front door closing and footsteps retreating down the gravel in his driveway.   
///  
Sam never really could understand deans lack of anger toward their father. It wasn’t really that dean didn’t hate him, but he just didn’t see the need to express that to john. Maybe because it just wasn’t productive, and maybe because if dean didn’t think about how he really felt, he could pretend for a time that they were a normal family.   
Eventually though, it would be shattered, the illusion that got dean through every day. It was usually because Sam tried to lecture their dad on some dumb shit and dean had to step in and take the beating, because of course he couldn’t let john do that to Sam. Sam didn’t deserve it.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys be nice, im very new to this :) first fic. might write more, but it really depends on you guys feedback. that said, thanks for reading :)


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